Looking Back
by Obviously Oblivious
Summary: RLSB. Blatently angsty, Remus Lupin reflecting on Sirius Black after he is taken to Azkaban. Feedback is always welcome. One shot fic.


Looking Back

_What is past is prologue. –William Shakespeare_.  
  
Twilight is dimming as the last few strains of the song roll out. With his eyes firmly shut Remus Lupin can almost trick himself into believing there is no record player, and that the cool evening breeze is telling him to hide his love away. The closing bars play, then silence fills the air heavily as the record player plays the invisible music signalling the end of the record. Amber eyes flutter open as he draws himself out of the calm reverie he'd been residing in with only this thoughts and the music for company. Now fully awake Remus was still alone but for his thoughts, though admittedly it was the absent music he valued most for company these days.  
  
The house he lived in was far removed from the country town it was situated outside of; Remus Lupin lived alone. No-one walked past the depressingly run down house, which, in all honesty was more a hut rather than house. Certainly not a home. Not even with the music of happier days, of yesteryear, filtering through the rooms. Recycled memories. There were simply too many empty spaces, too many places it could never fill. It had been two years past James and Lily's deaths, two years since Peter died, and two years since Sirius went away. Normally Remus could say it more truthfully, that it was two years since James and Lily had been murdered by Voldemort, two years since Peter had been murdered by Sirius and two years since Sirius had been taken to Azkaban. But in the reflective and slightly drunk state Remus Lupin was in presently, the reality which would hurt him less was the only one he could bear to contemplate.  
  
In both though, Sirius left him. Left him, finally, after years of promising not to. Remus sat down into a chair at the desk which served as a kitchen table and refilled his glass of Firewhiskey. He contemplated for a moment why he was even drinking the stuff. He didn't like it; he much preferred the Muggle whiskey, as he felt it held some sort of ingrained honesty to the alcohol. He wasn't quite sure why he gained that feeling from it, but brewing something for years instead of magically creating it, in a fraction longer than an instant had to count for something.  
  
The hut became dark, and Remus knew he'd have to light some lamps shortly or he'd be lost in the dark. He ran a hand through his brown hair distractedly after finishing his drink. The moon hadn't fully risen yet, and the very slight light filtering in through the window seemed to come solely from the stars. It wasn't too often that Remus Lupin allowed himself to feel so isolated and utterly alone. Usually, he read his books, listened to music, tended to the tiny garden growing out by the back door. Drinking wasn't even a usual practise, as he figured what was the point of becoming an alcoholic at age twenty-two? But it was The Day. Not the day the Potters died, or the day Peter died, not the day Sirius left. It was The Day, the anniversary of his first day at Hogwarts.  
  
The first day he'd felt like he could belong after the bite. He could scarcely remember a happier day; he'd felt he'd never be alone again. But they had existed, the day he learnt his best friends had became Animagus forms to keep him company on the full moon. The day James announced that Lily had accepted him. The day he'd found out he'd been made a Prefect at school. But none of those days would have happened if not for that first good Day, back before he had friends. Hide your love away, the recurring lyrics of the Beatles song, long since silent, played through Remus' mind. Lord know he'd hidden his love away most of his life. But sometimes it had lapsed, the control disappeared. It hadn't lapsed often enough. His head sunk to rest on his folded arms on the table top, and wished he hadn't hid away his love from Sirius, wished he wasn't alone, and wished that Sirius knew.  
  
Meanwhile, after sunset at Azkaban, if such a beautiful thing would ever grace its face on such a bleak and horrible place, one Sirius Black sat, as a large black dog. Padfoot was lonely. He missed being able to run, free through the grounds near Hogwarts with his friends. Missed being able to gaze up at a clear night and see stars. Missed being able to jump onto Remus' bed and sleep curled up by his feet, feeling at peace. Padfoot knew. Sirius knew. He wished Remus had. 


End file.
